


Princess

by Anonymous



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A queen doesn't always want to be a queen. (Based on a prompt, "spanking your boss.")
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44
Collections: Anonymous





	Princess

Jorah supposed he could blame the hour for his words, too late with too little sleep and too many problems of the kingdom to solve. Though why they were solving them now, over a carafe of sweet Dornish wine in the Queen’s chambers instead of in the Small Council in the morning, he did not know.

Nonetheless, even a far more foolish man would have known that his statement was unwise.

“If I am acting like a spoiled brat, then tell me, Ser Jorah, how do they discipline children on Bear Island?”

Foolish as it was, his frustration was winning the day. Jorah glared, as much as he dared, at his queen. “A child behaving like you? Taken over her father’s knee and spanked until she had to cool her cheeks in the snow.”

She blinked. Once, twice. Her lips parted, her chest rising and falling, and he could not identify the expression on her face. It did not seem to be anger. It should have been anger.

“Then do so, ser,” Daenerys said, the order breathless, but her eyes fierce. She pressed a hand against his chest to push him into his chair, and he knew he was staring in utter disbelief of what she asked.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Jorah,” she said coolly, “And do not stop until I tell you.” She gave a little shriek as he grabbed her arm and dragged her across his lap. Pinning his queen’s wrists behind her with one arm, he yanked up the skirt of her gown, and slapped his hand against the ivory curve of her arse. His queen gasped, her head dropping towards the floor, but she did not object. He smacked her again and again, as Daenerys writhed and made soft little cries that hardened his cock in his breeches.

Her arse was as heated as her dragon’s blood when she bade him stop. He released her wrists, rubbing her shoulder blades as she let her arms drop Daenerys looked up at him, her face flushed and her eyes filled with tears. Instinctively, he gathered her into his arms, trying to be mindful of her sore skin as she settled on his lap.

“I want – I need – “ she dropped her head again, murmuring almost shamefully into his neck, “Help me finish, ser.” She shifted her hips, letting her legs fall further apart, and pulled his hand beneath her skirt to the thatch of silver hair where her thighs met. She was absolutely soaking, and he slid two fingers inside her with ease while he nestled his thumb against the little bud above. Daenerys panted, her hands clutching at his tunic, while she hid her face against his shoulder.

The queen had never been embarrassed about seeking pleasure when she could, this Jorah knew all too well. So perhaps, Daenerys didn’t wish to be the queen just now.

“Khaleesi – “ he began, but Daenerys pressed a finger to his lips.

“Not a khaleesi,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes, with that air of expectation she often had, that he could figure out what she needed. Jorah frowned a little, but then he had a thought, a flash of memory from their earliest days together.

“Be good, princess,” he crooned to her, and she shivered pleasantly, tightening around his questing fingers. “You had your punishment, and you’ll have your reward.” Jorah knew he could have rushed her to her end, but instead he explored, learning this last hidden secret of his Khaleesi. Playfully he teased her, giving her only a whisper of touch at the place she wanted most and seeking out any other sensitive spots.

“Oh please, ser, _please_ ,” Daenerys begged, and Jorah thought he was getting dizzy from the effort of not spending in his own breeches. Considering just how wet and slick she had become, he paused for just a moment to ease a third finger inside her. Daenerys responded with a breathy _yes_ , and he tugged gently at the back of her hair so that she would look up at him.

“Look at me, Daenerys,” Jorah said, feeling very far away from his own words. “I want to see your beautiful face.” His princess whimpered and writhed, hips grinding against his hand, and after a few more strokes, Jorah felt her clenching and throbbing around him, nectar spilling onto his hand.

“Bed,” she said hoarsely, when she found her breath. Jorah nodded, and indulged himself by kissing the crown of her head before he swept her up in his arms and carried her to her room. He walked gingerly, however, his ardor not exactly calming while she clung to his neck and her scent teased his senses. Even worse, she expected him to serve as handmaiden and help her remove the rest of her clothing.

“Come now, Ser Jorah. It should be nothing new. You are one of the few men alive to witness the unburnt,” she teased, her smile quirking. She handed him a jar of salve from her dressing table as well, to be smoothed over the curve of her stinging bottom. He had to do this without squeezing, without sinking his teeth into the lush curve where he could still see the faint imprint of his hand, even though he could see her lip between her teeth at his touch, her nipples tightening into taut points that begged for his mouth. Jorah wondered if he might accidentally die from desire, or perhaps the boggling contradiction of seeing her come apart in his arms and being her servant again. Anger spiked at the edges of his heart, his Khaleesi’s cruelty was too much, too unfeeling.

And yet…

“Don’t go,” she said softly, and pulled him down beside her on the silken sheets. Settling beside her, he was surprised when she curled into him, draping her thigh over him, and accepted his arms encircling her. He massaged her neck, nuzzled at her temple, and drew the covers over her cooling skin. Her little hand toyed with the lace of his shirt, and his bear fury faded. This was his place, at her side, providing anything she needed – and he nearly jolted upright.

“Do you think me so heartless, my knight?” Daenerys asked, palming his length through his breeches. Jorah opened his mouth to reply, but Daenerys was loosening his clothing and slipping her hand inside to grasp him firmly and draw him out. She paused to reach across him and retrieve a bottle of oil secreted away her headboard. After pouring a few drops into her hand, she brought her hand to glide up and down his shaft again, leaving Jorah torn between watching her and letting his eyes fall shut to focus on the delicious sensation. He’d gone so long without a woman’s touch, he didn’t know if he could help himself. Already he thrust into her grasp, a hot flush spreading over his skin.

Then he realized that she had used the oil Missandei brushed through her hair, that he would carry her scent with him after they parted. “You are mine,” Daenerys whispered, her caress now far too slow and gentle, and brushed her nose against his. “You have seen me worshiped and triumphant, but you have seen me shattered and fragile as well, and I promise you, Jorah, no one else will.”

She sealed her vow with a searing kiss, her mouth wet and sweet, sustained only for a moment before he gave himself over to his peak, spilling over her hand with a deep groan as pleasure sparked up his spine. He felt dazed as she took charge of him, washed them and dispensed with the rest of his clothing before entwining herself with him in her luxurious bed.

“My Khaleesi,” he said tenderly, and her eyes softened, red lips curving into her warmest smile.

“Always, ser.” She kissed him again, looking at him a little shyly. “And sometimes, your princess.”

“I shall serve at her pleasure as well,” Jorah replied. He trailed his hand through her silver hair, and they warmed each other’s flesh anew, as the candles flickered and burned low in the night.


End file.
